


Side-Effects May Include...

by 0hHeyThereBigBadWolf



Series: A Poem Lovely As A Tree [2]
Category: The Librarians (TV 2014)
Genre: Domestic Fluff, Established Relationship, Jacob and His Flower Powers, M/M, Short & Sweet, Tooth-Rotting Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-04
Updated: 2019-02-04
Packaged: 2019-10-22 08:57:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,048
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17659733
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/0hHeyThereBigBadWolf/pseuds/0hHeyThereBigBadWolf
Summary: The thing about magic is that the warnings always come after the spells, and nobody ever puts the side-effects on the label.





	Side-Effects May Include...

When Ezekiel wakes up, his bed is empty.

Well, strictly speaking, it’s not _his_ bed. It’s Jacob’s bed, but it might as well be his, for as much as he sleeps in it. It’s still way too bloody early for him, but he’s cold without his scruffy space heater to spoon against. So, he sits up and puts on the thick, fuzzy socks that’d been his birthday present before he steps onto the cold floors, and he goes on a cowboy hunt.

Instead of just a flat, Jacob had bought his own townhouse in Portland; being a Librarian doesn’t pay all that well, not surprising since it’s a form of civil service. But as Jacob had oh-so-smugly informed him, being five different world-renowned experts did pay a very pretty penny. Despite its spaciousness and clean, neat design, Jacob had still made it very much his own with down-home furnishings, furniture that was probably pre-owned, an old record player with a bin of vinyls, and shelves of secondhand books.

And then there are the plants.

The plants are _everywhere._ Ezekiel had noticed that after the incident with the Grandfather Tree at that stupid summer camp, Jacob had started accumulating plants. Little potted ones on his desk and around his office, bigger ones at his home. It’d taken quite a bit of prodding for Jacob to finally admit that he could still understand the language of plants. And that he could make them grow and flower and move. So now, the predominant colour in Jacob’s house is green. The plants are huge and glorious and luxurious, with verdant, glossy leaves and bright, colourful blooms. Ezekiel no longer feels even a little silly when he tells them good morning on his way past, and the soft answering rustle of leaves doesn’t even unnerve him.

There’s a light on in the other bathroom, and he can hear Jacob’s quiet muttering through the half-open door. Ezekiel raps his knuckles against the doorframe. “Cowboy?”

“Come in, Jonesy.” Jacob’s leaning over the sink to peer at the mirror, one hand nervously patting at the thick thatch of bear fur he likes to call his hair.

“What’s the matter, you find a grey hair?” Ezekiel asks with a smirk, leaning his hip against the doorframe. “You know, it’d make you look very distinguished.”

“No, no, not that,” the historian replies, not even the slightest bit offended despite the fact that he always rises to the bait when Ezekiel makes a jab at his age. “But, Jonesy, look. Am I going crazy, or does that look _green_ to you?”

Did he just say green? “What?”

Jacob turns towards him and touches his temples. “Yeah. C’mere, look, right here.”

Ezekiel steps closer and leans in slightly to peer at Jacob’s hair, tilting his head towards the light to see clearly. It takes him a moment to see it clearly, but sure enough, he can see that just near Jacob’s temples, the ends of his hair have turned green. It’s a very dark, deep green colour, almost indistinguishable from the rest of his hair until the light hits it right. But it is definitely green, no mistake about that. “Yeah, it is,” he says in awe. “That’s…that’s different.”

 _“Different?_ My hair is turning _green,_ Jonesy. That’s more than just a little ‘different,’ wouldn’t you say?” Jacob exclaims, turning back towards the mirror and running his fingers back through his hair again.

“Well, at least it’s not grey,” Ezekiel remarks, and Jacob glares at him even as the corners of his mouth twitch a little. “Oh, c’mon, it’s not that bad. You can hardly see it, and it’s not like you look like the Joker or anything.”

“Yet.”

He chortles and reaches over to run his fingers through Jacob’s hair, the strands parting silkily between his fingertips. “It’ll be fine. I’m sure you can colour it later,” he soothes, though he kind of likes how it looks, now that he notices. Only the ends have turned green, not the roots, and he wonders if it’s like getting highlights after staying out in the sun too long.

Jacob frowns a little, but he stops fretting with it, lowering his hands to his side. “My problem isn’t with the hair colour, it’s the fact that my hair is turning green _on its own._ Like, people’s hair does not just up and turn green without some kind of cosmetic help.”

Ezekiel leans up to plant a kiss on his cheek. “It’s probably just another little side-effect of your communion with the earth, hippie,” he chortles, amused nonetheless. 

“Jonesy…” The historian looks in the mirror, frowns, and runs a hand over his hair again. “Why would it turn green anyways?”

“Photosynthesis.”

Jacob turns and smacks him in the arm, and Ezekiel laughs aloud, rubbing the sore spot. “Shut it, punk ass,” he growls. One hand drifts up to lightly touch his hair again. “You don’t think it looks bad, do you?”

“Not at all. Now, c’mon, it’s too early to be worrying about this shite.” Ezekiel steps closer and slides both arms around Jacob’s bare waist, pressing himself closer invitingly, grinning when he sees blue eyes darken with arousal, callused hands coming to rest on his back. “I’m sure I can find something else for you to be doing.”

“Is that so?” Jacob rumbles, pulling him a little closer. “Something interesting?”

Ezekiel purrs as he feels that ‘interest’ pressing into his hipbone. “Oh, yeah, very interesting.”

“Well, then, maybe we ought to take this ‘interesting’ conversation of ours back to the bedroom,” Jacob suggests, walking them backwards into the hallway.

“Excellent idea.”

For the next few hours, cosmetics is the furthest thing from their minds.

 

The green doesn’t go away. In fact, it comes in a little more, in different places so the overall effect is mottled. It isn’t noticeable since it’s a dark shade, not unless he’s got a bright light behind him. Ezekiel likes how it looks, and a good thing, too. Apparently, since it’s a side-effect of magic, it resists being dyed. Jacob decides that acceptance is the better part of valour and leaves it be.

He’s not sure how to answer, though, when people ask him who did his hair.

“Magic sentient tree” is not exactly a proper response.


End file.
